


Honeymoon Roadtrip!

by moonsarefake



Category: Love & Legends (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsarefake/pseuds/moonsarefake
Summary: It's a long drive from Chicago to Los Angeles. Helena and the MC go on the trip of their lives, and get up to all kinds of adventures.Sometimes they'll laugh, other times they'll cry- but LA awaits, and nothing will keep our heroic couple from reaching their destination.The tone is going to change pretty drastically from chapter to chapter- Not every adventure is fun.Story will spoil any and everything that happens in Helena's route.
Relationships: Helena Klein/Main Character, Helena Klein/Main Character (Love & Legends)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Breaking Down, an Auspicious Start

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a big Lovestruck story for a while, but I've been struggling with finding the character's voices. This story is something of a writing exercise, hopefully building up confidence for a much bigger endeavor.
> 
> Worst come to worst, I still get to bring some more Helena into the world.
> 
> Anyway, MC's name is Danielle in this one. Sorry, I know that it's weird reading the wrong name for a character but to be fair from my perspective that's just her name.

After a very late start, we decide to drive at least as far as the next motel before quitting for the night- but after only a few hours on the road, disaster strikes.

Helena jumps as the engine makes a loud, sputtering protest- and frowns when the car rolls to a stop.  
I slowly close my eyes in resigned despair, and let my head thunk down on the wheel.

“Danielle?” Helena sounds concerned, though curious. “Why have we stopped?”

I lean back in my seat and force a smile, gesturing to the front hood.

“Well, the car just died.” I say, knocking on the dash. “Fuckin rip.”

Helena's mouth drops open, and despite myself I have to suppress a hysterical giggle. I know exactly what she's gonna say next.  
I really have to watch how I say stuff around her- or maybe not, since this is always funny.

“These devices are... alive? And...” She squirms uncomfortably, looking over the interior with wide eyes. “And this one has died? Did we overwork it? What ripped?”

“No, no, don't worry, it's just a figure of speech. I just mean it broke.”

She mouths a silent “ah”, then shakes her head.

“The problem is that now we're stranded in the middle of nowhere with a broken down rental and no cell service and it's getting dark so now we're gonna die or starve or get murdered.” I do my best to keep calm, but as the situation sinks in I start to talk faster and faster.

Helena quickly takes my hand, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles. “We will be fine, my love. I can have us back home in an instant.”

Oh. Right.

I relax, and my face reddens. “I... I guess I forgot you can just do stuff like that now, huh?”

Her laugh is light and delighted, and I grumpily accept an incoming kiss.

“I suppose it is easy for you to forget about magic now that you are no longer surrounded by it,” she concedes. “I must admit that I am curious about the car. Do you imagine that it could be fixed?”

Now that my heart is slowing down and I'm no longer convinced we're about to die, I can think a little clearer.  
“Definitely not by me, no. I know nothing about cars.” I shrug helplessly. “But you're a mega genius, so if you wanna take a look...?”

She nods quickly. “Yes, I would like that. Do you know where the central mechanism lies?”

“Yeah, it's out there. It's getting dark though, so I'll need to give you some light-”

With a wave of her hand, Helena summons a bright orb of light, holding it aloft like a lantern. If I didn't know better, I'd almost call the look she gives me smug.  
I roll my eyes, and get out of the car.

Once I open the hood for her, Helena gets straight to work on examining the engine. She seems a little overwhelmed at first, gingerly poking at the many wires and big metal pieces- but from her narrowed eyes and vague mumbling I can see the gears starting to turn.

She points at a big bit in the middle, and looks at me hopefully. “Do you know what function this piece serves?”

I can't help but blush again, and I scratch my head, feeling extraordinarily useless. “I... really don't, no. Sorry. I kinda know basically what a car does to work, but-”

She flashes me a warm smile. “That is more than I know, then. Could you tell me what you know?”

I nod, and wrack my brain trying to go over what I remember. There's a lot of big gaps in my knowledge, but as soon as I lay out my shaky understanding of the way the pistons use the fuel to explode a lot or something, her face lights up with a sudden understanding.

“And this”- she says, excitedly pointing at a big box. It's the one part of the engine I can actually recognise. “This looks like a, mm. A power source... ah, a battery!”

She looks at it in awe. “It is massive!”

After that, I lose her for a few minutes, as she mumbles to herself and fiddles with parts with a new confidence. To my absolute lack of surprise, she manages to find what she believes to be a faulty connection, and with a little manoeuvring, puts it in its right place.

She shoots me a triumphant grin. “I believe that it will function correctly, now.”

I hop back into the driver's seat, and tentatively try the ignition. The engine roars, and I may not know a lot about cars but I can tell when one is working properly.

Helena slams the hood shut, and fails to hide how pleased she is with herself as she slides back into her seat. I take her hand, then recoil in shock.

“Oh, your hands are dirty!” I say, laughing. “Thanks for saving me, you little grease monkey.”

She studies her hands, frowning a little. “I am far taller than you. Also, what is a monkey?”

“Do- do you not have monkeys in fantasy land?” I ask, mystified. “Where did humans come from?”

Her face mirrors my own confusion. “Human origins are described in religious texts but I... am not sure what that has to do with grease?”

I shake my head, resigning the evolution conversation to another day. “Ah, nevermind. It's just a thing we call car mechanics sometimes.”

She nods, a quiet admission, then breathes a few words in her native language, making the muck on her hands dissolve into the air. With a gentle touch she takes my hand and does the same, leaving it pristine.

“There. No more grease,” she says, though she doesn't let go of my hand. “And, more importantly, we know with confidence that we were never in any danger.”

I shyly smile up at her, though I'm embarrassed at her acknowledgement of my earlier panic. “We already knew that, Helena. I was just being stupid before.”

“You are never stupid,” she says, firmly. “You simply do not expect magic to fix everything.”

She smiles fondly, and fixes up a few stray strands of my hair, shaken out of place by the breeze outside. “The people of your world- including you, my love- have learned to be independent of magic in a way I cannot even imagine.”

Doubt fills my mind, even as I instinctively glow from her praise. “I mean, you're the one who fixed the car...”

“With your aid, yes, I did.” she says, and that smug grin returns. “And all without magic by my side.”

I can't help but stare at the magic orb, still clutched in her hands, competing fiercely with the cab light.

Helena follows my gaze, then blushes as she closes her hand into a fist, crushing the orb out of existence.

“Well. The light was a convenience, yes, but I did not require it,” she says, brushing off her embarrassment. “My point is merely that, even if we ever were stranded without magic, the two of us are more than capable of surviving in your world together.”

“Together,” I repeat, before leaning in for a kiss. She meets me in the middle, and I get such a warm, fuzzy feeling that I laugh into her mouth.

“I should never have doubted that my brilliant wife would keep me safe,” I say, pulling back. From the sudden redness on her face, I can tell that being referred to as 'my wife' still hasn't lost any of its magic for her.

She shakes her head, smiling. “High praise, indeed, from the woman who fought so hard to protect me that she became a war hero in the process.”

I blush, but I fight back the urge to be modest. After all, it's not like any of that is false.

“I guess I am pretty awesome, huh?” I say, flexing my biceps. “If anyone attacks us on this road, I'll be forced to use these puppies on them.”

Helena laughs, though I recognise the brief moment of confusion as her brain tries to work out where dogs come into the picture.

“Hopefully it will not come to that,” she says, before nodding to the road ahead. “Shall we push on ahead, then? We have a long drive before us.”

She's not wrong, so I buckle my seatbelt and wait patiently for her to follow suit before peeling off into the dying embers of the sunset.


	2. A Fool and His Gold, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a lil violent in this one.

Though she does her best to hide it, I can tell Helena is less than impressed with our motel room.

I can't exactly blame her, since I'm pretty grossed out too. I trail a finger over the kitchen counter, and it comes away pitch black.

After dropping my bag on the floor, I shoot her a sheepish smile “It's not the cleanest place we've stayed at. Maybe to be safe we could do some magic on the bed.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “How very forward of you, Danielle. We have scarcely arrived, and you're already so eager.”

I blush, and from the smirk she gives me I know that there was no miscommunication whatsoever. Helena just loves to tease me.

“I- I meant... to check for bugs...” I say, pouting. “No fair, you can't get me all flustered before we even have a clean surface to work with.”

She laughs, and raises her hands in surrender. “Forgive me, my love. I will check the bed.”

Surprisingly, her search turns up no creepy crawlies, and we soon find ourselves snuggling up together on the bed, with Helena idly flicking through channels on the dinky old tv set.

I feel her suddenly lean forward in interest, and I smile as I guess at why- Gandalf the wizard has appeared on screen, staff in hand. He holds it aloft and floods his surroundings with an ethereal light, revealing a dank cavern and the many, many skeletal corpses contained within.

She points at him with the remote. “I have known wizards much like that one.”

“Oh yeah?” I say, giving him a once over. “Big cloak and staff, kinda dirty?”

“The staff is always a good indicator of ability,” she says, and shrugs. I can tell she doesn't think much of Gandalf. “If one needs a staff through which to channel a basic light spell, I fear there is little else they can do to improve.”

I huff. “Well, I can't cast any spells.”

She laughs, and hugs me close. “You also have not wasted coin on an ostentatious magical staff you can barely use.”

All is forgiven when she lands a tender kiss on my forehead, but she continues.

“Although...” she says, pulling back, fixing me with appraising eyes. “I have no doubt that, had you even a drop of magical potential, you would make an excellent wizard.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask. I'm fairly sure she's just trying to make me feel better, but I do love a good compliment.

She hums thoughtfully, and settles back down, watching the screen. “You have never failed to surpass my expectations, Danielle. I think the world of you, and you always deliver even more than that.”

I blink, and gape up at her.  
“Helena, I...” I start, fighting back the sudden prickling in my eyes. It must have started to rain in here or something. “You can't say stuff like that when we're just joking around, I'm seriously gonna cry now.”

She gently rubs at both eyes in turn. “You appear to have already started. If the truth is enough to will you to tears then I fear you shall never stop crying, love.”

I laugh, and bury my face in her shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” she says, simply, and we turn back to the movie.

It's not long before Helena finds something new to comment on- though her reaction is closer to horror than dismissal.

“What is that creature?” she asks, alarmed. Gollum is onscreen, and he's peeping at the heroes from the darkness.

“Oh, that's Gollum. He used to be like that guy” I say, pointing at Frodo, who is deep in a similar conversation with Gandalf already. “But this super powerful magic ring made him all gross looking and evil.”

She looks at me strangely. “Would that evil magic could always look so ugly. It would be far less seductive, at least.”

Helena's questions don't stop there, and by the time Gandalf tragically falls into a big pit, I've more or less explained the entire premise of Lord of the Rings.

Now she almost seems sad to see the raggedy wizard go.

“Oh, that is unfortunate,” she says, reaching for my hand. I give it a comforting squeeze. “His power was clearly far greater than I had given him credit for.”

I give her a teasing smirk. “And...?”

She hesitates. “And... I think I will miss him. He was a friendly sort.”

Helena's questions come fewer and further in between, and I eventually find myself drifting off to sleep.

It's still dark when I stir awake- a glance at my phone tells me that it's almost two AM, and I huff in frustration.  
When I reach for Helena's hand, however, I feel only cool, empty sheets.

I can't imagine getting out of bed right now, so I use my phone's light to illuminate the room- and I spot a little note on Helena's pillow.

“ _My love_ ”, it reads. “ _Forgive me if you wake before I return. Altea has signalled through her charm that she desires my aid, and but a glance at your beautiful resting face forbade me from disturbing it into wakefulness._ ”

I blush, though I've caught myself staring at Helena's face in her sleep many times before. It's a total wife thing.

“ _Thankfully, the time differential means that my visit should be a rather short one from your perspective. With luck I shall return within the hour._

 _With endless love._  
_Helena._ ”

Underneath her name, she's signed it with the time that she left- about one thirty. With another furtive glance at the clock, I sigh and throw myself back onto my pillow.

Part of me wishes that she'd woken me up, but another part is happy that Helena's starting to feel comfortable doing things on her own. Perhaps this was a way of testing herself further, though I really hope that she comes back to grab me if it's anything serious.

Knowing Altea, she probably just wants help with unruly students at that fancy new school of hers- I can't imagine her disrupting our honeymoon with anything dangerous.

I shake my head, smiling despite myself.

“At least, she'd better not have.” I mumble to myself, and close my eyes, hoping to wake up in the morning in a warm hug.

Instead, I'm jolted awake mere moments later as the front door is kicked in.

I sit up in bed, and simply watch in stunned silence as four men push their way into the room. My eyes widen as I see that they've all got pistols strapped to them.

With a choked scream, I fumble my way out of bed. In my panic, I stumble, and- to my horror- someone catches me before I can hit the floor.

He grips me tight by the shoulders, forcing me to look up at him. He's tall, alright, and is fixing me with a hard, cold stare.

“And where do you think you're going?” he asks, and backs me up away from the door, into the wall. I gasp as I collide with the hard brick behind me, and the air is forced out of my lungs. “Where's your hot friend?”

My brain whirs, desperately looking for a way out, somewhere I can escape. The guy holding me looks enough like the boss, with his three lackeys still standing by at the door.

I work through the terror, and settle into a familiar- if unwelcome- calm. This isn't my first rodeo, nor my first “in mortal peril” situation.  
I square my jaw, and glare defiantly up, straight into his eyes.

“She's downstairs”, I say, hoping I sound confident instead of terrified. “She'll be back up in a minute, at- at which point you're screwed.”

He laughs, and his friends all mimic him. Classic lackey behaviour, I note. Definitely the boss.

“Nice try, but there's nobody downstairs. It's the middle of the night and the office is closed.” He tuts, and I feel his grip tighten. “You know that lying is a sin, right?”

I don't answer. I have a feeling I'm not gonna like where this is going.

I don't. He holds me in place with a forearm against my collarbone, freeing up his other hand to punch me, hard. My hands fly to my stomach, and I try to curl over inwards- but he doesn't let me, keeping me pinned against the wall.

My cry of pain comes out as a sob, and he leans in close, wearing an almost sympathetic expression.

“God, that must have hurt, huh? I'm real sorry about that.” He gives up the act, and smirks. “But to be fair, you're a fuckin liar, and it's gonna complicate things if you keep that shit up.”

Keeping me pinned, he turns to his team. “You two, poke around the room, see if they were dumb enough to bring any of that gold with 'em. And you, keep an eye on the window, tell me if anyone shows up.”

He gives me a once over. “I really don't wanna be surprised by the scary blonde lady. I get the feeling that if she sees her like this we're dead.”

He's given me a lot to work with, and I do my best to grit my teeth through the pain and actually think. An image of Sophie leaps into my mind- if someone's noticed my sudden windfall, she's in danger too.

“You want gold?” I ask, through shallow breaths. “You're just here because you want the gold?”

“Yeah, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't do anything stupid, like playing dumb.” He flicks me in the nose. “You paid for this romantic getaway by exchanging a whole lotta gold coins.”

I don't even stop to think. No point lying about it now, and I'm absolutely not about to get murdered over useless money. “Yeah, I did. We've barely spent any of it, I can just give you the money if that's really all you-”

He laughs. “I don't want money, dumbass. I want to know where you got fifteen gold coins. I want all the gold you've got, and then some more of it.”

I shake my head. “No, we exchanged all of it. That's all the gold we had, but it's a ton of money so-”

He interrupts me with another swift punch to the gut. I'm not expecting it this time, and by the time I stop coughing and spluttering, there's tears streaming down my face.

“W-what was that for?” I ask. If I was less terrified I'd probably be angry. “I didn't lie to you.”

The guy watching the window chuckles to himself. “I think that's another lie, yeah, Mark?”

“Sure is,” says the guy holding me- apparently he's called “Mark”, dumb boring name for an evil thug- and he pulls back his arm for another go.

I panic. If I get hit again I'm probably gonna throw up, not to mention how much it hurts. “No, please! Don't- I wasn't lying, I wasn't lying!”

There's a brief pause, and I catch a dangerous glint in Mark's eyes.

Then he hits me. He hits me again, and again, and again. There's a burning in my throat, and before I can piece the situation together, I've been dropped on the floor in a puddle of my own vomit.

Though I'm now free to move, I can't even think about doing anything other than curling up into myself, wrapping my arms around my tender stomach.

I try to grasp at that cool confidence I had before, but it's gone. It dawns on me just how serious the situation is, and all I can think about is how much I want Helena to come and save me again.

My face is roughly jerked up, and I can see Mark squatting next to me, looking altogether too smug.  
He holds my gaze.

“That was three lies, idiot.” He pushes my face down into the damp carpet, holding it firm. “You getting it yet? Because I'd like to be out of here before Mrs. Tall and Leggy gets back, if at all possible, and you're making it hard.”

“You- you're that scared of my wife, huh?” I ask, choking the question out through shallow breaths.

“The boys and I think she's probably a soldier. She's definitely carrying, either way.” he shrugs, then gives me a tight smile. “And see? I was honest, just now. So I'd like you to be honest.”

“I w-” I start, then cut myself off. If I “lie” again, he's just gonna keep hurting me. I need to be smarter than that.

“I don't know how to make you believe me.” I say, carefully considering every word. “I agree that- um- that lying to you would be a bad idea.”

He rolls his eyes. “You know, I can hit you for things other than lying. You're not gonna get out of this by being clever with words.”

Letting my face go, he looks up at his gang. “You guys found anything yet?”

The lackey poking around in my suitcase stands up, casually holding a pair of underwear. “No gold, at least, boss,” he says.

The other guy pokes his head out of the bathroom, and presents the makeup case I bought for Helena before we left. “This looks pretty valuable, but it ain't gold either.”

Mark huffs, but gives them a good natured grin afterwards. “Ah well. Take what you want, ya freaks. I didn't really think they'd bring the gold anyway.”

He turns his attention back to me, and reaches for his pocket- and I flinch away from him when I see the butterfly knife he pulls out.  
With a practised flourish, he unfolds it, and gently rests the blade on my cheek. The metal is cold, and a chill runs through my spine at the contact.

“Gonna be honest, I don't wanna mess up your face if I don't gotta, but...” he says, then shrugs helplessly. “I won't lose sleep over it, either. So. Where did you get that gold?”

Once again, I think of Sophie. If I tell him the truth- that a friend gave it to me- he's gonna make me give her up, and I refuse to put her in danger.

I take a shuddering breath. Half truths, then. I need to buy time.

“Okay, okay! Don't hurt me! The gold is- it belongs to my wife's family,” I say, affecting a desperate tone to my voice that's not entirely fabricated. “Her sister died recently; we used her share for our trip.”

Mark narrows his eyes, and, to my relief, I can see that he's not dismissing it as a lie just yet. “It's her family's gold? Who the fuck did you marry, with a family vault full of gold coins?”

I keep it up, spinning the best tale I can muster. Making up valid excuses for late assignments all through college has trained me for this.

“I d- I dunno how they got the gold, but, but they've used it to make some good careers. My wife's sister had a TV show- the Helen show?”

The window goon turns away from his one job, and stares at me incredulously. “You're married to Helen Kay's sister?”

Mark jerks his head back at him in surprise. “Helen who?”

“Helen Kay, the- she had a big talk show in L.A. The BF loves that weepy shit.” He pauses, and turns back to the window with a shrug. “Come to think of it, yeah, I think she did look a lot like her wife.”

I nod quickly, and shoot Mark a plaintive look. “Please, look her up, you'll see- she's almost identical.”

His interest piqued, he puts the knife down, and reaches for his back pocket, presumably to grab his phone- and as he does, I see it. An opportunity. Adrenaline courses through me, and I suddenly feel almost calm again.

Time seems to slow down, and all the blood rushes to my head. Mark realises his mistake at about the same time I do, but my hands are closer.  
Pushing through the screaming pain in my stomach, I grasp at his knife.

“Ah no, you little-” He's cut off, as I grab the back of his head, forcing the knife into his throat. His attempt to curse becomes a strangled gurgle, and I can see the panic in his eyes as he struggles to breathe.

But I can't stop now. I know that if I stop, I'm dead.

I force myself to stand, and wrench Mark up with me. Nobody seems to have noticed anything amiss yet, too busy looting our luggage or watching the parking lot- but the window goon turns around at the sound, and lets out a surprised shout as he reaches for his gun.

“Holy shit-”

I shove the twitching body into him as hard as I can. Mark's something of a dead weight, so it's HARD, but I manage to push the guy off balance. I spring forward, and, thinking fast, grab his head with both hands, slamming it against the window as hard as I can.

The glass shatters, and I can feel him go completely limp. I extricate the gun from the tangled pile of bodies in front of me, and quickly whirl around on the men behind me.

They're slow. One of them has their hand on their waist, the other is still holding that damn pair of underwear, looking utterly shocked.

I fire. The first shot misses, as does the second. I keep pulling the trigger, over and over and over again.  
By the time the gun is empty, both men are on the ground, and I'm left tugging on the trigger. Click, click, click.

The room is silent, but for that clicking. It finally catches up to me that I'm out of both bullets and people to shoot, and I slowly, shakily, lower the gun.

There's a sudden thrum of energy, and a portal materialises in the middle of the room.


	3. A Fool and His Gold, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to get emotions babey

Though there's clearly daylight streaming through from the other side of the portal, Helena still has the presence of mind to keep the noise to a minimum as she steps through, quietly but energetically waving goodbye to whomever she's leaving behind on the other side.

With a flourish of her hand, she wills the portal shut, turning her attention to the room- to me, standing by the front window, covered in blood and vomit. She goes rigid, as her eyes survey the scene, and she drops something- a large cloth bag. It thunks to the floor.

I look down at my hands- they're still tightly gripping the gun, but despite my urge to throw it away, to hide it, I can't seem to force my fingers to release the thing.

“Danielle...?” she asks, and through the ringing in my ears I can hear the sound of her voice- uncertain, but filled with love and worry. It floods me with an unspeakable relief, and snaps me out of my stupor.

I fall to my knees, letting the gun clatter to the floor, and wrap my arms around my stomach. The adrenaline is wearing off, and I can feel exactly how much it hurts, like that knife is lodged in my gut instead of Mark's throat. 

Helena's on me in a blink, kneeling to throw her arms around me. She holds me close, stroking my hair.

“Oh, my love, I- I cannot imagine...” She holds me at arm's length, and gently wipes tears from my eyes. I didn't even realise I was crying. The realisation that I am makes me sob harder, if anything. “Are you hurt? What happened? And, who- who are these men?”

It takes me a good minute to get my breathing under control, and Helena patiently waits by my side, rubbing comforting circles on my back and shushing me gently.

“He was hitting me...” I say. My voice is quiet and shuddering, probably barely intelligible, but Helena nods, willing me to continue. “He just kept hitting me and I- you...”

I bury my face in her chest, as if to muffle the next part. I don't mean it, I know I don't mean it, but I can't push back the urge to lash out, like hurting someone else might make me feel better. 

“You weren't here!”

She stiffens, but never stops holding me tight. 

“I know... I am so sorry, Danie-”

“Why weren't you here!?” My voice cracks, and I'm just wailing into her now. “I was s-scared, and he hurt me and...”

Helena grips me ever tighter, and she rocks me back and forth until I've yelled myself coarse.

Eventually, and yet far too soon, she lets me go. One look at her face- ashen and tearstreaked, like my own must be- and that need to fight vanishes, replaced with hot shame.

“I'm sorry...” I mumble, shaking my head. “No, you- I know you didn't do this.”

She cups my face, tilting it this way and that, scanning for injuries. “You have nothing to apologise for, darling. Where are you hurt?”

Slowly, tentatively, I tug at my pyjama shirt. Helena follows my lead by gently raising it, hissing through her teeth as she sees the angry red bruise forming underneath. Her fingers tenderly skate over my skin, but when she gently prods me right in the middle I can't hold back a choked cry of pain, stars erupting before my eyes.

She recoils. 

“I- I apologise,” she says. She wipes at her eyes, and quickly rises to her feet. “I am no physician, but, as chance would have it, I did restock my supply of healing potions while visiting with Altea.”

She nimbly steps over the bodies on the floor, and kneels down to her discarded bag.

“Of course, had I simply come back directly instead of wasting time brewing potions...” she mutters, rummaging through various bottles and packages. “Ah, here.”

She rushes back to me, flask in hand- this time definitely stumbling a little over a body in her hurry- and pulls a cork out of it with her teeth. She hands the flask to me. 

“Drink this,” she says, before slowly pulling my shirt up again. “I will apply a salve to soothe the skin, if you permit it.”

“Okay...” I say, eyeing her hands hesitantly. “Be gentle, okay?”

Helena leans forward, and, despite myself, I smile when she lands a soft kiss on my nose. “Always.”

I down the potion in one go, almost gagging at the bitter root taste.

“Oh my god, that's... that's really bad.” I say, tossing the flask aside. “Is there another potion, to heal my tastebuds?”

There's a brief pause, then Helena laughs. The tension deflates a little, and she shakes her head while lathering her hands with a thick red gel.

“I entirely forgot to bring potions to improve taste, unfortunately,” she says, then looks around the room. She bites her lip hesitantly. “I do have several more potions of healing, if... if you can think of any others who might require them.”

A chill runs down my spine, and it's like I can still feel the gun in my hands, feel my fingers tug on the trigger as I fire it again and again. 

I can hear it all- screaming, both from me and my victims, and the gunshots themselves, violent and terrifying and powerful.

I shake my head.

“They're all dead. Helena,” I say, and I can't help but repeat myself. “All of them. They're dead.”

She hums in affirmation, then sets her attention to my bruises. With a practised hand, she begins to smooth the salve over my skin. True to her word, it's gentle and painless, and the gel itself tingles pleasantly.

A moment passes between us, her gently working her magic on me while I sit and catch my breath. 

“These men,” she says, sparing another glance around the room. “What was their goal, in assailing you?”

“They just wanted some of those freaking gold coins,” I say, with a huff. “I guess bad people notice when normal folks get rich suddenly.”

Helena blinks, surprised. “Gold? They- they sought coin? Like common brigands?”

She gingerly reaches a wet hand into her jacket pocket, and, between two fingers, tugs out one of the very same kinds of coin Mark was after. She eyes it warily. “Altea did compensate me for my assistance, but if this is the sort of attention these coins will garner, then...”

She shakes her head, and drops it back into the pocket. “Perhaps I will simply donate them to the war recovery efforts.”

“What did she need you for, anyway?” I ask, doing my best to fight back the sudden rush of anger I feel at Altea's name. It's not her fault. No, it's not her fault either.

Helena's returned to my massage, but my question earns a sigh. “Defensive magic has never been Altea's strong point- she called upon me for my aid in establishing a lesson plan on the subject.”

She tuts in frustration, and I feel her fists clench over me. “I was there more than half a day, and now I can think only of the breaks we took, every instant wasted, keeping me away from you when you needed me.”

“Helena.” I say, firmly. I grab her hand, and I feel the salve tingle as it spreads onto mine. “Are you secretly one of the guys who attacked me?”

“Perhaps not, but were I here at the time-”

I roll my eyes. “If you were here, then we'd have both been in the line of fire. I don't want that any more than what did happen. I'm glad you were somewhere safe.”

“Danielle, I...” Helena looks stricken. “I could have banished these men with a single word. Not even a word, a thought. I could have sent them to the new Zealand and been done with them.”

Even as I smile at her linguistic mistake- which was adorable- I can't help but contrast what she says she'd do with what I actually did.  
I look to the window. Mark's limp body is hanging halfway out of it, on top of his buddy's. Blood is dripping to the floor, staining the carpet. The room stinks of it.

These men are dead. Because of me.

“You... wouldn't have killed them, would you.” 

It's not a question. I know she wouldn't. That's not who Helena is any more.  
She's covered in blood, now that I really look at her. Without a second thought, she'd held me in her arms, and ended up soaked in the blood that I took.

She follows my gaze, then closes her eyes. When she answers me, she talks slowly, like she's carefully considering her every word.

“Mercy is a luxury, my love.” she says, smiling sadly. “You were alone, and injured. It was a choice between your suffering and their deaths.”

She tugs my shirt back down, and pats my belly fondly. “And, for what it is worth... I do believe you have once again surpassed all of my expectations. I am so very proud of you.”

I raise my eyebrows, and gesture wildly around the room.

“You're proud?” I ask, incredulous. I hold up a bloody hand, palm first. “You're proud of this? You're proud that I k-killed these guys?”

My eyes are burning again. “You don't get it, Helena. There isn't a war going on, not right here. This isn't a warzone, it's a room filled with dead men and their murderer. I'm...”

I'm breathing hard, now. It's finally catching up to me. That's what I am, now.

“I'm a murderer... oh, oh god, I'm a m-” I wrap my arms around myself and curl up inwards, eyes down. I breathe quickly, in short panicked huffs.

It's too much. I'm feeling too much. My ears never stopped ringing from the gunshots earlier, but now it's deafening. I can't hear anything else.  
My skin feels like it's burning- and when I feel a hesitant touch on my shoulder, I flinch away. I know it's just Helena, offering me comfort, but right now I don't deserve even that, not when I can still smell the blood in the room...

Except, now I can't.

The air is different. It feels cooler, and smells familiar.  
Like home.

I look up, and I'm greeted with a welcome sight. Instead of blood and death, I see my couch and my TV- and Helena, standing in the middle of my apartment, looking sheepish as she dismisses a portal with a small, thoughtless gesture.

Another thing she looks like is clean. She's somehow gotten all of the blood off of her clothes- and me, I notice, giving myself a once over.

She catches me staring, and smiles weakly. “Grease and blood are not so different, my love.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I'd try not to bring that fact up around normal people, Helena.”

She hesitantly kneels down next to me, and slowly raises a hand to hover by my cheek.

“May I?”

I don't answer in so many words, instead leaning into her touch. She takes the hint, and throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into her chest.

“I am proud of you, Danielle,” she says, firmly. “I am so proud of you.”

“How?” I ask. It's a plea, a desperate plea for approval, for forgiveness. “How can you be proud of me, after this?”

She laughs, and moves my face in her hands, holding my gaze firm with her own. “How? How can I be proud of my wife, for fending off four armed men, all without magic or even her own weapon?”

Brushing the tears from my eyes, she flashes the most beautiful smile full of affection and warmth. “You truly do not understand how incredible you are.”

Doubt fills my mind, as her kind words battle with the worst case scenarios rattling around in my head.

“God, what about the bodies, Helena? What about the room? It's full of blood, what are we gonna do?”

With a smile and a grand wave of her hand, Helena opens a portal right in front of my eyes. I brace myself when I recognise the motel room, but...

It's completely clean. The window has been repaired, and there's no trace of blood anywhere. Mark is nowhere to be seen, and neither are his lackeys.

“I have... experience... cleaning up such messes.” she says. It's a simple admission, but I can tell that none of this is easy for her, either. After so much time and effort moving on from death and violence, this was probably the last thing she wanted to do on her honeymoon.

At least we're both miserable, I suppose.

She closes the portal, and, just like that... It's all over.

There's a flush of water, and the sound makes us both jump. We turn to face the bathroom door.

It opens, and Helena positions herself in front of me- providing ample protection from the threat that emerges from within.

It's Sophie. Her eyes are half lidded, and I can tell that she's only just woken up to use the bathroom. It takes her a few dim seconds to realise that she's not alone in the room, before her eyes shoot wide open.

“Holy shit, Danielle. What- what even happened to your honeymoon?”


	4. A Fool and His Gold, Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The titular fool has been dead for two whole chapters by the end of this one. That's a weird story arc.
> 
> I wanted to try writing an argument, so that's what this is chapter is for. Each chapter is basically me saying "hey what if i tried writing this"

“God, you poor thing,” says Sophie, and she clutches at my hand ever tighter.

She's sitting next to me on the couch, with Helena on my other side making a Danielle sandwich. They've both got their arms around me, and I feel warm and toasty as hell.

The first thing Sophie did when she saw the look on my face was pull the blanket off my bed, bundling me up in a warm cocoon.

The second thing she did was explain why she was in my apartment- it's closer to work, and was empty anyway. She's had a spare key basically since we've met, and I guess I'm being introduced to the dark side of that power.

“I can't believe the crap you get into, Danielle!” she says, shaking her head. “I love you, but you're a dang trouble magnet.

“I guess that means you haven't had any trouble then?” I ask. “No armed thugs or, uh. Brigands? Been attacked by any brigands?”

She shrugs. “Can't say I've run into any... brigands, no. But to be fair, I haven't secluded myself away in a seedy highway motel recently.”

I get a gentle rap on my skull for my trouble. “Take your wife somewhere nice next time, weirdo!”

“Me? B-but I'm the one who got hurt!” I say, feigning outrage. “Talk to Helena!”

Sophie eyes her warily. “Yeah, well. I'll get to her later.”

The two get into a bit of a stare-off, and I can practically feel the tension spike.  
Since we've gotten back, Sophie hasn't even said a word to Helena directly. Last I checked they were getting along just fine, so I'm pretty sure she's blaming her for what happened to me.

In any other situation, I'd love the protective best friend thing, but the absolute last thing I want is for these two to get into a fight over my honour or whatever.

“But first- you've only told me half the story. How did you...” Sophie pauses, like she's looking for a delicate way to put it. “How did you like, not die? Did you show up and teleport them to space or something?”

The last question is directed at Helena, who shakes her head. “By the time I arrived, Danielle had the situation well in hand.”

Sophie rolls her eyes. “Oh, great. That's super cool, Helena.”

I can hear Helena breathing behind me, and her next breath hisses through her teeth.

“Sophie...” I don't have the energy to deal with this right now. “Please don't.”

“Fine, okay, okay.” She raises her hands in surrender. “But like, what'd you even do, girl? Did you go to soldier school in fantasyland? Cuz before you left you weren't exactly a Black Widow kinda gal, you know?”

I bite my lip, and look up at Helena, sending her a wordless plea for support. She leans in close, and whispers gently into my ear.  
“You did nothing wrong, my love.”

Her hand gently takes my own, and her breath tickles pleasantly- but her sweet words roll right off my back as soon as I turn to Sophie.

She's waiting quietly. She'd understand anything, any answer I had to give her- of course she would, she's my best friend. She's Sophie.

I still can't bear the thought of her knowing what I did.

“I lied,” I lie, wearing my best knowing smile. “I managed to convince them they had the wrong person, so they just kinda left me there on the floor.”

After just a hair too long, Helena chimes in to back me up. “I am fairly certain I saw their carria- no, their car, departing when I returned but, of course, pursuit was the last thing on my mind at the time.”

Helena wraps her arm around my back, and I lean into her, relieved. A little put out by how bad both of us are at lying, maybe, but at least together we have almost the deceptive ability of one person.

At the very least, Sophie seems convinced. She looks disturbed, but nods anyway. “God, that's creepy. They're just out there somewhere now, huh?”

She nudges my shoulder. “Still, that's my girl. You and I are talkers, not fighters.”

I hold Helena's hand aloft, smiling. I do my best not to actually think about what she just said. “I think you'll find I'm a lover, actually.”

Sophie gasps, and gives me a half hearted shove. “Illegal! You're not allowed to brag about getting hitched to your single friends!”

She's giving me an out, intended or not, and I pounce on it. 

“You're only single because you didn't take the amazing opportunity I gave you.” I say, with an exaggerated pout. “A whole castle full of just the hottest fantasy dudes and babes and what did you do with them?”

“...Nothing,” she says, sighing. “Stared at the cute elf, mostly.”

She splutters. “It- it wouldn't have been appropriate anyway! I was there for your wedding.”

“Romance moves fast in fantasyland, Soph.” I say, shaking my head sadly. “You could probably have ended the night off engaged, if you said enough crazy Chicago things. They love that stuff there.”

I look up at Helena, and crane my neck up to land a kiss on her cheek. “You too, huh, babe? I know you dig the accent.”

“Your dialect is certainly... disarming.” says Helena, looking down at me fondly. “But it sounds best coming from you.”

I grin. “Aw. I like how you talk too, Helena.”

“Ew. No. Stop.” Sophie makes a big 'X' with her arms. “No schmoopy stuff when we're talking about how I'm depressed and lonely.”

She sighs again. “Anyway, I clearly don't do the accent justice the way you do, because that dude with the eyes seemed to hate hearing me talk at him.

“Saerys.” Helena quietly corrects her.

Sophie raises her eyebrows. 

“I'm sorry?” she asks, coolly. Her eyes narrow, and I can practically see how much unspoken anger is brewing in there.

“His name is Saerys.” Helena repeats, and I can feel her shrug behind me. “I simply wanted to let you know. So you could refer to him as such in future.”

“Why does it matter what I call him?” she asks, through gritted teeth. “I barely know the dude.”

I wince. If Sophie knew their history she'd have shut her mouth by now.

Helena lets go of my hand, and tightens it into a fist. “I know him, and it matters to me. He deserves more respect than that. It is but a simple request.”

“You know what? Why don't you just worry about-” Sophie catches my wide-eyed expression, and herself, at the same time. She clamps her mouth shut.

I raise my hands soothingly. “Okay, Sophie, please, just. Let's go back to the hot guys-”

“And what would you have me worry about, Sophie?” asks Helena. I'm taken aback by the anger in her voice. She would never even dream of talking to me like this, all defensive and aggression.

“Helena!” I say, pleading, turning to her. But she's already standing, towering over me. Sophie's on her feet too, and the two of them are staring daggers at each other.

Sophie barks out a humorless laugh, and folds her arms. “Well, it's just a suggestion, Helena, but if I were you I would probably worry about making sure Danielle doesn't get the shit beat out of her in seedy motels!”

Helena recoils, like the words themselves are hot irons. “That... that is not-”

On a warpath now, Sophie doesn't let up. Everything she's been fighting not to say comes spilling out, along with a good few tears. 

“You're like, what, basically a god in this world? And I'm supposed to believe you can't even keep my best friend safe and generally un-tortured for a few goddamn days?”

“And why were we targeted, hm?” Helena's voice is far lower, but it bubbles over with a dark rage. “Those men were after gold, if I recall.”

“Excuse me?” Sophie asks, incredulous. She scoffs. “Am I supposed to feel bad about giving you a pile of gold? Is that seriously the angle you're going with here?”

She thrusts a finger in Helena's face, getting dangerously close. “Face it, Helena. Danielle would probably be dead- or worse- right now if she was less of a badass. You're a shitty wife.”

“Leave her alone!” I can't take it any more. I stand up, and get right up next to Sophie, glaring up at her.  
I'm not really even tall enough to stop her and Helena from being able to argue, but they both freeze at the sound of my voice.

“You can't...” I say, sniffling. I rub angrily at my eyes, willing the tears to stay out of this. “You can't talk to her like that!”

I look between the two of them. We're all crying, now.

“Danielle, I-” Helena hesitantly speaks up, but I cut her off too.

“And you can't either! Neither of you are allowed to be horrible to each other!”

Sophie looks at me reproachfully. “I'm- I'm on your side, though! Maybe you were able to talk your way out of trouble today, but what happens when those freaks find you again, and Helena's left you to do god knows-”

“They're dead, Sophie!” I wrap my arms around my chest, and sob in earnest. “They- they're dead. I killed them, okay?”

The silence that follows is as much a relief as it is a cold reminder of the weight of what I've just admitted to. I slowly drop back down to the couch, Helena right by my side, and- after a moment- Sophie takes her seat too.

Sophie hesitantly touches my shoulder. “I- you said that-”

I laugh bitterly, and shake off her hand. “Yeah, w-well, I lied. I didn't want you to know. I also didn't want to have to deal with this and a screaming match between my two favourite people, but I guess I just don't get what I want today.”

Helena's hand gently cups my face, and even though I'm mad at her too, I can't bring myself to brush her off like I did Sophie. I lean into her touch, and gently strokes my cheek.

“How?” Sophie's natural curiosity wins over all of the other emotions, and she simply looks puzzled. “How did you k- how did you take out four dudes with guns?”

I sniffle, and Helena pulls me in for a hug. She answers for me.

“Soldier school.” she says, tenderly rubbing my back. “My wife is a decorated veteran, if you recall.”

“Yeah, wow, no kidding...” she says, voice soft with wonder. She sighs. “Look, Danielle, I- I'm sure Helena said the same thing, but nobody's gonna judge you for icing those scumbags.”

Helena hums in agreement. “Not in... so many words, but yes.”

Sophie pauses, and scratches her head in frustration.

“And then there's Helena. Look, I promise I won't shout any more, but I honestly stand by all-” she hesitates for a beat- “most, of what I said. I don't like that Helena left you alone, asleep, in some random highway motel. I'd be nervous alone in a place like that during the day.”

“But,” she continues, eyes turning downwards. “I think I wanted to blame her entirely so I wouldn't have to think about my role in it. Helena's right, it absolutely was my gold that lead them to you.”

Helena lets out a long, shuddering breath. “Sophie... I spoke out of turn. I cannot in good conscience hold you accountable for the crime of generosity. The blame rests with me.”

“Helena, I swear to god- it's not your fault either.” I push away from her, and look between the two of them. “Nobody in this room hurt me! Neither of you are bad people! Just kiss and make up already!”

After that, we sit in silence for a few minutes, though I give in to temptation and rest my head in the crook of Helena's neck. Even if I am kinda cross with her, she's extremely comfortable.

Helena breaks the silence. “Is- is that phrase literal? Because I would prefer not-”

I giggle helplessly, burrowing deeper into her. “No, babe. It's very not literal. Just say sorry so we can talk about our hot friends again.”

“I'll go first.” Sophie sounds sufficiently mollified, so I nod at her. “I'm sorry for turning this into a fight for absolutely no reason, and... and I'm sorry for what I said to you, Helena.”

She smiles sadly. “I know you're a great wife. A mistake doesn't suddenly undo all of the love and commitment and... all that other perfect stuff I've seen from you two."

Helena blinks, and hesitates. I can tell that she's honestly touched. “I appreciate you saying so, Sophie, and apologise in turn. I was hurt, and I did my best to hurt you as well, even though I did not believe you to be at fault for even a moment.” 

She leans in close, and touches her forehead to mine. “And to you, Danielle- I am so, so very sorry. I should have controlled myself, instead of forcing you to mediate. Especially after all you have been through tonight.”

I hold her gaze for a moment- then quickly move my face down, and nip at Helena's nose.

She recoils, with a surprised and undignified yelp.

I cackle, and jump up off the couch.

“Finally!” I say, pumping my arms up in triumph. “We're a stubborn bunch, but we got there in the end!”

“Hang on, what about you?” Sophie asks, throwing a pillow at me. I fumble it completely, and she laughs as it splats to the floor. “Are you sorry about anything?”

Yeah, I am.

I grin widely. “Nope! I'm actually completely without sin.”

Helena's smirk says more than words can, as does my resultant blush- but she follows it up with words anyway. “Oh, I have seen you sin in excess, my love.”

Sophie throws up her hands. 

“That's it!” she says, storming off to the bed. To my bed. “I will not be witness to the flirting. I am drawing a line.”

“A line that leads straight to our bed, I see.” Helena notes dryly. 

“You two aren't even supposed to be here!” Sophie says, pointing at me with a hairbrush. “Unlike me, a US citizen exercising my squatter's rights to sleep in my friend's empty home for convenience's sake!"

She pauses, and shoots me a hopeful smile. “By which I mean, may I please continue to squat here for the time being? I promise I was joking about taking the bed.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Soph, you can stay. I need someone to water my plants after we leave tomorrow, anyway.”

Sophie blinks, frozen in place, brush tangled in her hair. “You- you're going to leave again? After what happened?”

“Of course we are.” I say, smiling back at Helena. “It's our goddamn honeymoon, and it ends when we say it does.”


End file.
